RAFFLES' BILL
It was with hearty thankfulness at the idea of being finally rid of Raffles that Jack walked over to the "Lodestone" by himself on the Thursday, jingling his last few shillings in his pockets. Raffles was waiting for him in the stables, and he was very friendly and familiar, which always annoyed Jack immensely.
"Glad you're in time, sir, and to 'ear the dibs a-rattlin' in your pockets."
"Because they'll rattle in yours, soon, I suppose. I make out I owe you about ten shillings, Raffles."
"'Ow do you make that out, Mr. Bourne?"
"Rabbits, cartridges, and dummy pigeons. I'm about right, I fancy?"
"Right as far as they go."
"As far as they go, of course—not farther. Then here you are."
"And the gun," said Raffles, calmly, looking into vacancy, and not seeing Jack's coins—"leastwise, wot was a gun."
"Am I to pay for that filthy article?" said Jack, angrily. "Why, it nearly blew my brains out!"